


Where Are All The Gods?

by pandacowhipster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandacowhipster/pseuds/pandacowhipster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are rough in Beacon City. Crime rates are higher than ever and there’s something in the water that seems to bring out the evil overlord in folks. Luckily, it brings out the hero in others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Things are rough in Beacon City. Crime rates are higher than ever and there’s something in the water that seems to bring out the evil overlord in folks. Luckily, it brings out the hero in others.

Stiles isn’t one of them, he’s more of a behind the scenes kind of guy, has been ever since best friend got thrust into the vigilante game. Scott had been working at the animal clinic when someone brought in a wolf that’d escaped an animal testing facility. Scott got bitten, great power, great responsibility, you know the deal.

Luckily for Scott, Stiles’ day job involves designing tech for multi-billion dollar companies so he has access to the best gear on the market, and the know how to build anything that isn’t.

“How’s our fair city looking tonight Kujo?” Stiles asks over the comms link as he monitors police scanners.

 “Dude, what’s the point of me having a codename if you don’t use it?”

“There is no point,” Stiles spins around in his computer chair, “Because ‘Sirius’ is a dumbass codename.”

“Shut up and listen for anything on the scanners,” Scott huffs.

“What do you think I’m doing? Just because you can’t walk and chew gum at the same time doesn’t mean other people can’t multitask.”

“Hold up, I think I got something.”

Stiles sat up and turned to his computer, checking Scott’s location, “What, in the warehouse?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna check it out.”

“Same.” Stiles says and pulls up his files to see if any local gangs control the area. He’s pulling up a secondary file when he hears Scott scream over the comms.

“What’s happening? Are you okay?”

There’s no response from Scott’s end and the channel cuts to static.

Stiles yanks open his desk drawer and grabs his Glock, “Goddamn it, Scott.” He sighs as runs out of the house to his Jeep.

So much for behind the scenes.

When he gets to the warehouse Scott was at, it looks deserted. He slowly ventures into the building, gun at the ready.

It’s practically empty inside, but he sees a prone form near the far wall.

“Shit.” He mutters as he races over to Scott. He tucks his gun into the back of his pants and kneels down beside his friend, “You’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be fine.” Stiles gently slides back Scott’s cowl with one hand, cradling his head in the other. He carefully strips Scott of his costume, preferring to explain how he found his friend unconscious and bloodied in his underwear rather than reveal Sirius was just an idiot fresh out of college who went and got himself nearly killed.

Stiles carries Scott to his Jeep and speeds toward Beacon City Medical Center. Upon arrival, he hastily explains that he was on the phone with Scott when he heard him scream and assumed his friend had been mugged. They take Scott away on a gurney and Stiles waits.

Scott’s mom shows up and sits next to him holding his hand too tight. Stiles doesn’t even remember calling her.

Stiles doesn’t know how long it takes the doctors to return and use words like ‘trauma’ and ‘swelling’ to tell him his friend won’t wake up and there’s nothing he can do about it, that they’ll just have to wait for Scott to pull through in his own time.

He doesn’t go in to see him; he just hugs Ms. McCall and drives home.

Stiles stares at his monitors for the better part of an hour before making a decision.

Whoever did this sure as hell isn’t about to get away with it.

It’s not hard to prepare himself, he was the one who helped Scott get started out, training with him to get into peak building scaling shape. He also gets to use all the tech he designed that Scott insisted he didn’t need with his powers. He tricks out a motorcycle helmet with bullet-proof shielding, comms links, access to all his computers at home, a voice modifier and a kick ass gold paint job. All that’s missing is a British AI system.

He removes the plates and files the serial number off the Kawasaki Ninja he bought mostly on a whim and decks her out in black and gold candy paint. If he’s going to be a superhero, he might as well have the ride.

It takes a week for him to go out for his first patrol, he doesn’t feel ready, but Scott being out of commission means he needs to pick up the slack. His helmet picks up a crazy heat signature from the roof of an apartment complex so he figures that’s as good a place to start as any. He parks his bike in an alley and covers her in a tarp before climbing up a fire escape.

When he gets to the top there’s an arrow pointed at his chest.

“Easy,” he says putting his hands in the air, “I’m on your side.”

The woman on the other side of the impressive bow doesn’t move.

“You’re Silver Shot right?” Stiles says, remembering how Scott had been mooning over her after they teamed up to stop some smugglers. “I’m a friend of Sirius.”

“Where’s he been?” she asks, her bow lowering slightly.

“He’s taking care of some things,” Stiles says, grateful his helmets speakers take the waver out of his voice. “I’m filling in for him.”

“And who are you, the golden asshat?” Asks another woman in a white suit, red ponytail literally flaming behind her and Stiles realizes she’s the heat he picked up earlier. He’s seen her on the news, Fury, superhuman flamethrower with a temper to match, not mention she racks up collateral damage like it’s going out of style.

“Oh yeah, I’m probably gonna need a codename huh?” Stiles puts his hands on his hips, “How about Lancer, you know, ‘cause I’m the hero’s right hand man.”

He can’t see their faces under their masks but he feels like he’s getting two blank stares. Apparently superheroes aren’t big on TV Tropes.

“Someone’s breaking into the museum,” Silver Shot nods to the alabaster building across the street, “We could use the help, what are your powers?”

“I have a sword and a lot of guns,” he taps his helmet, “Also Wifi.”

Fury huffs and the flames around her hair flare up, “Great, a rookie with no powers, try not to die please.”

Stiles wonders if he should be disturbed for finding her attractive despite the mask covering her entire face. Also the pyromania, but he’s gone after worse.

He shoots his grappling hook onto the museum’s roof. “Don’t worry about me hot pants, I can handle my own.”

He breaks his wrist.

He consoles himself with the knowledge that he wasn’t the one who sent half the cubism exhibit up in flames. 


	2. Chapter 2

His wrist is only sort of healed up when he sneaks into the back of a convenience store being held up by a couple dumbasses in ski masks. He creeps down an aisle towards where they’re pointing guns at the cashier as she frantically empties her register.

“Ski masks? Really? And here I thought bandanas were the latest in thug chic.” The goons turn toward him as he extends his retractable bo staff. Stiles thrusts it down in front of himself and pole vaults a kick into the shorter guy’s chest. When he turns to take on the second guy, Stiles finds him being slammed down by a brick house in a domino mask and a leather jacket.

“Nice.” Stiles says.

The mask doesn’t hide the other guy’s eye roll. He tenses and lunges at Stiles, planting his hands on his shoulders, simultaneously throwing Stiles down and jumping clean over him.

Stiles whips around to find domino dude with his knee in the chest of the shorter goon, who had pulled a knife behind Stiles’ back. Somewhere between jumping over Stiles and tackling the shit out of a petty crook domino’s sprouted claws and an impressive set of fangs.

“Very nice.” Stiles says, and pulls a couple zip ties from the pouch on his hip. Domino raises and eyebrow but Stiles just shrugs as he binds the first crook’s hands, “Don’t knock simple solutions dude.” After they’re tired up Stiles hands the still stunned cashier a ten dollar bill and swipes two mallow cups from the candy rack.

“We might wanna shag ass before the cops show up.” Stiles says to apparently no one, because feral-man apparently has vanishing powers too. He scoffs, but his voice modifier causes it to sound like a hiss of static, which is much less satisfying.

He’s back into his lone hero mode as he roof hops back to his bike, which is why he nearly pisses himself when he’s yanked by his sword strap to face the guy from earlier.

“Who the hell are you?” He growls. He honest to God growls, which is entirely ridiculous if you ask Stiles.

Stiles shakes the loose of the other man’s grip, “Easy dude.” He says as he dusts himself off, “I’m Lancer. Filling in for a friend. And who exactly are you? Captain Bad Touch?”

“Lycan.” He grunts out. Seriously, who pissed in this guy’s cereal?

“You should cut back on the stank face, it’s really wrecking this male model thing you got going,” Stiles gestures at Lycan’s everything. “By the way you might wanna work on a better disguise, dude. Unless your cheekbones are your main identifying feature.”

“Shut up.” And whoa, suddenly he was back to being all up in Stiles’ grill. “You’re an amateur and you could have gotten someone killed.”

“Hey, I might be new to the front lines, but I know my shit.”

“Really?” He moves faster than Stiles thought possible and whips him around, pinning Stiles’ arm behind his back.

Stiles recovers quickly throwing his head back to make contact with Lycan’s nose while stomping on his foot. He only falters for a second but it’s long enough for Stiles to pivot back toward him and get his sword out and at Lycan’s throat, “Yeah, really.”

Lycan smirks, “adequate.”

Stiles sheaths his sword, “Oh I’m more than adequate Big Bad, how ‘bout I show you some time?”

“How about I rip your throat out? With my teeth.”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Stiles offers his hand, “We cool?”

Lycan takes it and gives it one firm super masculine shake, “For now. You said you were filling in for someone?”

“Yeah,  Sirius.”

The groan and eye-roll he receives speak volumes.

“I take it you know him then?”

“I’ve seen his work,” Lycan shoves his hands into his pockets, “I thought he was like us at first, but he isn’t.”

“Like us?”

“Had powers like mine,” He answers, “Where is he?”

“He had some things to take care of.” Stiles says.

“You’re lying.” Lycan says, an edge to his voice.

“You’re a lie detector now? I think you’re hogging all the super powers, dude.”

Lycan crowds him, “What did you do to him?”

Stiles fists a hand in Lycan’s jacket, “Why don’t you watch your fucking mouth, before you say something else that stupid. I’d never lay a hand on him, I’m trying to find out who did.”

Lycan blinks, “What happened?”

“He got hurt.” He lets go of Lycan’s jacket, but doesn’t back away.

Lycan looks down, “My partner, she got hurt too, we’ve been trying to track down who did it.”

“Two heroes taken out of commission? You think it’s related?”

Lycan shrugs.

“You got any leads?”

“Just this,” he reaches into his pocket and hands Stiles a scrap of paper with a drawing of some kind of dog on it. “It was on a necklace.”

“That’s more than I got,” Stiles smoothes Lycan’s jacket over his chest. “I think this just became a beautiful friendship.”

Lycan looks pained at the thought.

-

“That bad huh?” Laura asks when Derek climbs through the window of their apartment and throws his mask down on her desk with a groan.

He slouches into and armchair in the corner. “Just a couple dumbasses knocking over a corner store.”

“One of them get grabby?” She asks, “You got somebody else’s scent all over you.” She gives it another sniff, “not bad actually, is that Armani?”

“Shut up.” Derek sneers, “Some amateur playing hero. Called himself Lancer, said he was covering for that Sirius kid.”

Laura rolls her eyes, “Somebody should.”

“He said he got hurt, bad I’m guessing. He thinks it might be the same people that…” He doesn’t finish but Laura knows where he’s going.

“So are you gonna work with him?”

“Why would I do that?”

She raises an eyebrow, “Because somebody needs to watch your back, and I’m not exactly in peak form.”

“I don’t need any help.”

Laura pushes away from the desk and wheels herself toward Derek, “You gonna argue with a cripple?”

“That’s not funny.” Derek says, his eyes flashing blue.

“Am I laughing? Somebody ripped me in _half_ , Derek and if I’m going to be stuck in this chair I’d prefer not to be worrying the same thing’s going to happen to you.” Laura runs a hand through her hair, “Derek, please?”

Derek crosses his arms, “I can’t exactly defy my alpha can I?”

“Screw alpha, you better not defy your big sister.” Laura says, her eyes flashing red.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles wakes up to the smell of coffee and the pages of a book on the Beast of Gévaudanstuck to his face.

“Do I want to know?”

Stiles looks up to see Danny holding a very large paper cup of coffee out to him, “Probably not.” Stiles takes the cup and inhales deeply, “Have I told you I love you Danny? Because I do, I’ll make an honest man out of you and everything.”

“Seriously have you slept in your bed lately?” Danny asks, ignoring him, which is par for the course really.

“Define ‘lately’,” Stiles says even though he knows exactly how long he’s been keeping odd hours. Late night patrols, visiting Scott in the hospital, and trying to figure out what the hell the symbol Lycan found was had him sleeping at his desk more often than not.

Danny rolls his eyes, “Harris wants me to look over your new designs, please tell me you have them.”

“It’s like he doesn’t trust me,” Stiles scoffs and pulls the designs up on his computer and beckons Danny over.

“Jesus. How long did these take you?” Danny asks, clicking through Stiles’ blueprints for… he can’t actually remember but it’s either a smart phone or a taser. Either way it looks like it’s solar powered.

“Uh, like two hours maybe?” He had mocked up the design a few days ago during a slow crime night.

“Freak,” he says but still marvels at the designs.

“Funny, you said the same thing the night of the Christmas party last year.”

Danny glares, “You promised to never talk about that.”

“I promised nothing.”

“You’re a horrible person.”

“Yeah but you’re going to do me a favor anyway.”

-

Stiles has never been one for subtlety, but he figures getting Danny to reprogram one of Beacon City’s biggest billboards to broadcast ‘ _Hey hot pants, meet me where we had our first date tonight at 10 (and bring your cute friend)  –L’_ should get him what he wants.

When a fireball narrowly misses the back of his helmet as he sits on the roof of the art museum, he decides it worked.

“What the hell do you want?” Fury asks, hands on her hips.

“What could anyone want other than another chance to bask in your radiance?” Stiles mock fawns over her. “And when I said your cute friend, I meant Silver Shot, but he’s not too bad on the eyes either.” Stiles says giving the guy behind Fury a once over. He's always on the news, waving at reporters and posing for photos. He’s a speedster, calls himself Bolt. From what Stiles has seen, his secondary power is douchebaggery.

“She was busy. She says hi though.” Fury says like she can’t imagine why anyone would ever want to say anything to Stiles.

“Is he for real?” Bolt asks, giving a Grade-A bitchface.

“Yeah, he’s just a dumbass.” Lycan says emerging from the shadows like the boogieman he is.

“I missed you too, Scooby.” Stiles says waving. “I was hoping you’d catch the hint.”

“Did you actually want something or did you just bring us here to annoy us some more?” Fury asks.

“I need your help.”

“Why should we help you?” Bolt asks.

“Because if you don’t, we’ll all be in serious need of some help pretty soon.”

“Yeah right.”

“Okay first of all I didn’t invite you, I don’t even know you.” Stiles holds up a hand to dismiss him and he’s pretty sure the guy starts pouting, “I think someone’s targeting heroes, more than usual. Harder too.”

“Does this have something to do with Sirius?” Fury asks.

“Unfortunately, yeah. I got more intel, but it’s back at my place. You guys mind tagging along?”

Lycan and Fury nod, and after a sharp elbow to the ribs, Bolt does too.

“Well, Fury can fly and Bolt can jog briskly behind us, so it looks like you’re with me Big Bad.”

“Fine.” Lycan groans and follows Stiles to the edge of the roof, but instead of repelling down the grappling wire after Stiles he just dives right off the building. Because that’s the thing to do.

“That’s a neat trick,” Stiles says as he uncovers his bike. “Can you roll over and fetch too?”

“I can strangle you with your own intestines.”

“Down boy.” Stiles says straddling his bike. “Come on, you’re riding bitch. No pun intended…. Okay pun kind of intended.”

Lycan gets on behind him in a huff, “Do you ever shut up?”

“I’ve been told I talk in my sleep.” He starts her up and she hums to life under them, “Hold on tight Abercrombie.”

“ _What_ did you just call me?”

“You’re gonna have to speak up dude, I can’t hear you over the engine.” Stiles says unnecessarily loud.

Lycan just digs his fingers deep into Stiles hips, there’s a good chance some claws come out.

“Now you’re just trying to excite me.” Stiles says and peels off, Fury and Bolt right behind him. He leads them further downtown until they get to a set of tunnels under the state office buildings. He swerves past a barricade blocking off one of the tunnels and the whole place lights up as Fury enters behind him. The tunnel lets out on the highway, but he takes the first exit and veers up the dirt road that leads to the back of his house. The garage door opens as he approaches and  he parks his bike behind his jeep.

“You live here?” Bolt asks in disbelief as Stiles leads them inside the spacious building.

“No I just broke in and hung up pictures of my friends and family.” Stiles says though his house is admittedly sort of huge and very awesome.

Lycan stops short and winces, “It reeks of you in here.” He says shaking his head. “Do you ever leave?”

“If you actually cover your nose, I’m going to be offended. Come on, the good stuff’s downstairs.”

He’d call it his workshop if he didn’t make half his designs on the couch while watching _Charmed_ reruns, but it’s decked out as such anyway. He made sure to clean up his other projects before he left so there’s just his work-tables and computers sitting everywhere and a large monitor on the far wall.

Stiles grabs a laptop and sits on a  bench in front of one of the tables, “Take a seat gang, If you’ll direct your attention to the big shiny screen over there, we can get started.” He takes his helmet off, revealing a full face mask underneath.

Bolt snorts, “Seriously?”

“Some us actually want to keep our identities under wraps, camwhore.” Stiles says not looking away from his laptop as he pulls up the necessary articles. “Lycan how long ago did your partner get hit?”

“Alpha,” Lycan supplies, sitting next to Stiles, “She was attacked almost three months ago.”

“And Sirius got taken out a month ago. I don’t believe in coincidences so I checked around and this has happened twice before, in South Springs and again in Penn Beach. Heroes started dropping off the radar and I got a feeling most of them weren’t as lucky as Sirius and Alpha.”

“All the heroes in those cities just disappeared?” Fury asks.

“That’s the thing, only the ones with super-human abilities got taken out. All the non-powered heroes are still kicking.”

“If it’s only powered heroes then why do you care?” Bolt asks, crossing his arms.

“Uh, because I’m not the devil?” Stiles rolls his eyes. “We’ve only got one lead.” Stiles pulls up a scan of the drawing Lycan gave him.

“It was on a pendant. One the people who attacked Alpha was wearing it.” Lycan says.

“I’ve been researching my ass off but these guys are seriously good at covering their tracks.” He rubs a hand across his head, “Listen, Sirius is in a fucking coma and… just be careful. Stay on the lookout and if you find anything or need anything, hit me up.” Stiles sets his laptop down and goes over to a cabinet pulling several handheld devices from it.

“What are these?” Fury asks, taking one and examining it.

“Well I couldn’t invite you guys over and not give out party favors. They’re communicators, color coded for you convenience too.” Stiles says swapping the black cased device in Fury’s hands for a red one. “Well, my convenience. I already programmed your info in them, I needed to remember whose was whose.” He tosses the black one to Lycan along with the white one, “Black’s for you, white’s for Alpha. I wasn’t expecting you, Bolt, but I always make extra, just in case.” he turns to a computer and starts putting Bolt’s info into the system.

“It’s like a cellphone only better. Untraceable, great reception, and not to brag, but a very awesome user friendly interface.”

Bolt looks over the communicator skeptically, “Wait, what do you mean brag?  You made these?”

“Yeah?” The designs Danny had looked over earlier were actually for a smart phone and it had only taken a small bit of reworking to turn it into a closed channel communicator. “Well, designed it. A friend of mine actually built them. It’s amazing what favors you can get when someone thinks you have a sex tape of their slightly drunken hook up with you.”

“The scary part is I think he’s serious.” Fury says.

“You can judge my methods or you can keep your shiny new toy.” He hands her a grey communicator, “Give that to S.S. when you see her.”

“Who’s the blue one for?” Bolt asks.

“Sirius.” Stiles says, picking it up and turning it over in his gloved hand, “When he wakes up.”

Fury puts a hand on his shoulder, “We have to go, we’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks, Hot Stuff.” Stiles says, smiling even though she can’t see it.

“You said you were researching?” Lycan says once Bolt and Fury leave.

“Yeah. I found a couple books that might be related to the carving on the necklace. A few websites too.”

“Show me.”

“Uh, sure. Come on, they’re upstairs.” He leads Lycan to the second floor where his office is, “that’s them on the desk. I’ll be right back, don’t steal anything.” He heads to his bedroom and strips out of his costume and into a pair of sweats and an old band t-shirt from high school that somehow still fits.

Lycan eyes him oddly from his spot on the small sofa when he reenters the study.

“What, you were expecting Bruce Wayne?”

Lycan shrugs.

“I figure it doesn’t matter if you see my face anyway. You’ve already got my scent and I feel like that’s enough for you. Am I right?”

“Basically.” Lycan says. He frowns, then, after a moment he reaches up and eases his domino mask off his face and slides into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Oh.” Is all Stiles says, because what else can he say to a face like that? He takes it back, those Abercrombie dudes have nothing on this guy.

Lycan raises an eyebrow and okay, yeah, Stiles sort of hates the mask for hiding that expression from him.

Stiles takes seat behind his desk and pulls up the pages he’d been looking through earlier. He thinks he might be onto something interesting when Lycan pulls out a phone and dials. Stiles does his best not to stare while openly listening to Lycan’s half of the conversation.

“I’m fine—yes—What you told me to do—I’m researching the symbol on that necklace—because I’m doing what you said and researching with Lancer—no—shut up.” Lycan’s jaw clenches, “I’m hanging up on you.” He says and shoves a phone in his pocket.

Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“She’s my sister.” Lycan says, almost defensive.

“Okay.” Stiles says, trying not to laugh at the thought  of Derek getting pushed around by his sister. “So, think I might have something.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s not the quite same symbol but it’s close enough.” He turns his monitor around towards Lycan, “There were these dudes in France, called themselves the Argents. Back in the day, they were famous for hunting witches and, get this, _werewolves_.”

“You think it’s the same people?”

“I think there’s a chance one of their descendants is taking it to the next level and trying to get rid of anyone not… normal, people with powers.”

“Freaks.” Lycan says.

“Superhumans.” Stiles corrects, “The freaks are the ones that put my best friend in a coma just because he wanted to help people.”

“It makes sense. They knew how to… It’s not just a name, Alpha and I are lycans, werewolves. It makes us heal faster, but they knew how to hurt us.”

“What do you mean?”

“The only way to kill a werewolf is to cut them in half, that way they can’t heal.”

The blank look on Lycan’s face isn’t helping the growing knot in the pit of Stiles’ stomach.

“I found her in time, but she hasn’t… it’s taking her longer to heal.”

“She’s going to get better,” Stiles says even though he knows from experience that’s not the kind of promise you should make to someone, “and so is Sirius. They’ll be back to annoying the hell out of us and risking their lives fighting some whack job who wants to steal a monument or poison the water supply in no time.”

The smirk and eye roll he receives make him feel a little better.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, Stiles is woken up by Danny. Except this time when he opens his eyes, he sees Danny and Lycan having the most awkward stare down in history. The two of them are exchanging disapproving looks like the other’s some horrible growth attaching itself to Stiles. It’s kind of flattering.

Stiles may get distracted thinking about the two of them wrestling it out.

In whipped cream.

“Hey Danny, how’s it going?” Stiles asks in the most forcefully cheerful voice he can manage.

Danny just darts his eyes from Stiles to Lycan pointedly as he hands Stiles a coffee.

“What him? That’s my friend… who will introduce himself to you right now.”

“Derek.” Lycan grinds out and offers Danny a stiff handshake like the one he gave Stiles the first night they met.

“And this is Danny who works with me. Isn’t it great to meet new people?”

Danny scrubs a hand across his face, “If he’s a prostitute, I don’t want to know about it.”

Stiles jumps from behind his desk and shoves his coffee into Lycan’s hands to quell his obviously building rage.

“Danny could you go wait in the kitchen, please? I’ll bring a USB with the new laptop designs down to you in just a sec.”

Danny gives him a look that says more than words ever could. Most of it rude and judgmental.

“ _Derek_? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?” Stiles asks once Danny heads downstairs.

“That’s my name.” Lycan—Derek apparently—says, taking a sip of coffee.

“Seriously?” Stiles says looking him over, he has to admit he kind of imagined him having a more dark and mysterious name, but he’s Derek. Who’d have thought? “I’m Stiles.”

Derek raises his eyebrow.

“Shut up.” Stiles says, snatching the coffee back from _Derek_ and going back to his desk. He takes a long drink as he quickly loads the USB, “Stay here, please? I don’t have that many friends so I kind of need you to not kill him.”

Derek just grunts and takes the coffee back.

Stiles rushes down to the kitchen where Danny’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through something on his phone.

“Seriously, who is that guy?” Danny asks.

“Look, I just woke up so I can’t think of a convincing lie and you wouldn’t believe the truth of I told you so, let’s just move on.”

Danny sighs, “the less I know the better.” He takes the USB from Stiles and claps a hand on his shoulder, “Just be careful, okay?”

“Is this your way of telling me to use protection?”

Danny whacks him lightly upside the head, “I’m serious.”

“I know, thanks.” He locks the back door behind Danny and runs a hand through his short hair. He turns to go back upstairs and get Derek, but Derek’s standing in the doorway. Lurking. “Will you stop that?”

Derek raises his eyebrows like Stiles should respond better to a constant constant game of hide-and-go-werewolf.

“If you’re hungry you can…” Stiles waves a hand toward the fridge, words cut off by a yawn.

“You don’t sleep enough.” Is all Derek says while rooting through Stiles’ cabinets.

“I’ve been busy.” Stiles says, heading toward the coffee maker.

Derek slaps his hand away, “go sit down somewhere.”

Stiles sticks his tongue out, but heads into the living room. He’s collapsed on the couch when Derek comes in and drops a plate with two sandwiches on the coffee table.

“You wanna watch _Monsters Inc._?”

Derek shrugs and pushes Stiles’ feet off the couch so he can sit.

Stiles grabs a sandwich and puts his feet defiantly on Derek’s lap, “Are we hanging out? Because that’d be kind of awesome.” He says through a mouthful of sandwich. It’s roast beef and kind of obscenely delicious.

Derek sighs and delivers some more of that eyebrow communication he’s so fond of. Stiles isn’t sure what it means though.

He chooses to interpret it as a ‘yes, we’re totally bros now’.

Stiles passes out almost immediately but he wakes up briefly as Boo is causing havoc during Mike’s date. His eyes flick over to Derek who’s sitting freakishly still, with his eyes half lidded.

“Oh my God, you sleep with your eyes open?” Stiles nudges Derek with his leg, “Lay down you creep.”

Derek just grunts and flops over, resting his head on Stiles’ hip.

“Remind me to make fun you for that later.” Stiles mumbles, already falling back asleep.

Stiles is roused by Derek shifting to answer his vibrating phone.

“What?” Derek’s hair is mussed and he blinks the sleep from his eyes, it's pretty adorable.

Stiles sits up and turns off the television.

“I’m fine—the same place I was the last time I talked to you—will you shut up?—well, we found something, I’ll tell you more when I get home—if I was would I tell _you_?” Derek looks red in the face and Stiles would think he was blushing if it weren’t for Derek’s general badassery. “Stop it, I’ll be home soon.”

“Sibling rivalry?” Stiles asks when Derek hangs up.

Derek snarls at Stiles, smirking when Stiles flinches despite himself.

“Don’t make me get your big bad sister over here to kick your little werewolf ass.” Stiles crosses his arms.

“She’s going to kick both our asses if you don’t take me home soon.”

“Just when we were starting to establish a real connection,”  Stiles says sarcastically, but he has enjoyed hanging with Derek. “I’ll get my keys.”

When Stiles gets to the garage, Derek is eyeing his Jeep dubiously.

“Don’t give my baby the stink eye, Sheila’s my one true love.” Stiles says, petting her hood.

“You have shitty romantic taste.” Derek scoffs, but gets in anyway.

“Can’t be too shitty, I haven’t come on to you.” Stiles says and starts her up.

“You’ve hit on me six times since we’ve met.”

Stiles shrugs, “Well then, Sexy, I guess your point stands.”

Derek rolls his eyes and tells Stiles which exit to take off the highway.

“So,” Stiles says when he pulls up in front of the apartment complex Derek directed him to.

Derek raises an eyebrow, which Stiles thinks in this case is werewolf for ‘yes?’.

“This was… fun.”

“Yeah.” Derek says, smiling slightly.

“Yep.” Stiles says, feeling the awkwardness build inside the Jeep.

Derek reaches over and squeezes the back of Stiles’ neck, letting his hand linger, “Bye Stiles.”

Stiles nods dumbly as Derek gets out, feeling his face heat all the while.

-

“So it’s not a thing, but I think it might turn into a thing?” Stiles rubs the back of his neck, “I want it to be a thing. I know you don’t swing that way, but even you would go a little gay if you saw him without the mask.” He drops into a chair, “It’s not exactly an ideal time to worry about my personal relationships though huh?” He leans his chin on the edge of the bed, “Then again, we are in some pretty serious shit. It’s really not an ideal time for anything is it? Plus, when will I get another shot at getting it on with a werewolf? Not that I’m sure we’ll be getting it on or anything, but this is probably my one chance to try. The whole, might get killed any day now thing just adds a little spice to it all.”

Stiles closes his eyes and breathes in the nauseatingly clean scent clinging to the blanket and sheets, “I just really need you back dude, just—” he looks up at Scott’s face, all the scars from the attack healed and fading, his hair shorter than usual because they had to chop off half the floppy mess to get to his brain and it hasn’t finished growing back yet.

“Just come back okay?” Stiles stands and takes Scott’s hand tightly in his own, listening to the monitors beep softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow buddy.”


	5. Chapter 5

After that, things settle into a rhythm of sorts for Stiles; visit Scott, design awesome things for work, fight crime, slowly worry himself into an early grave over all the crazy shit in his life. He teams up with others a few times, he still hasn’t seen Silver Shot, but Fury assures him she’s okay. And admittedly as insane as it is that he spends half his time with werewolves and people that can break the land speed record on foot, it’s kind of awesome too. It’s been a very long time since Stiles has felt like there are people who have his back.

So of course it all goes to shit.

“You know, you hovering doesn’t make me work any faster.” Danny mutters as he assembles the prototype of Stiles’ latest design, this time it actually is a taser.

“Come on, you know I like watching your magic fingers.” Stiles says, leaning further over Danny’s shoulder.

“Sexual harassment workshops aren’t just for show, Stiles.” Danny says, not looking up from his workbench.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Stiles says.

Danny smirks despite himself and raises an eyebrow when the _Speed Racer_ theme starts blaring out of Stiles’ jeans pocket.

Stiles fumbles for his yellow cased communicator, “What’s wrong?” he asks immediately after answering, since Bolt usually avoids calling him like the plague.

“I need your help,” Bolt blurts out, somehow out of breath and speaking too fast at the same time. “They were at my house, one of them shot me.”

“Where are you now?” Stiles asks, not bothering to look back at Danny as he races out of the office towards the lot where his jeep is parked.

“At your house.” Bolt grits out.

“Are you suited up?” Stiles asks as he scrambles into his jeep.

“No dickhead, I told you I was at home when they _shot me_.”

“Near death is doing nothing to improve your mood,” Stiles says as he starts her up, “I’ll be there in less than ten, try not bleed out all over my welcome mat.” Stiles hangs up and pulls the siren he temporarily misappropriated from his dad’s office at the police department from his glove box.

He slams it on top of his jeep and races toward the highway. He does the usually 15 minute trip in five and skids to a stop outside his garage. He barely remembers to turn the engine off as he jumps out of the car, bypassing Bolt and unlocking the door.

“Took you long enough.” Bolt mutters as Stiles hauls him up and drags him toward the dining room.

“You’re seriously sassing the guy who’s trying to save your sorry ass?” Stiles says as he pushes place settings from the table. “Lay down, I’ll be right back, I need to see if I can find something to stitch you up with.”

“I just need you to get the bullets out, I heal at an accelerated rate too.” Bolt says, yanking off his blood soaked shirt

“Awesome,” Stiles says, heading for the bathroom, he comes back with tweezers and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He splashes the alcohol on his hands and the tweezers and more of it against Bolt’s side.

“Fuck.” Bolt winces and clenches his hand on the side of the table.

“You’re gonna be okay, It’s gonna be fine,” Stiles digs the tweezers into one of the holes in Bolt’s side. “You can yell if you want, I don’t have any neighbors.”

Apparently that’s all Bolt needed hear since he starts wailing louder and louder as Stiles fishes the first bullet from where it’s buried deep in the muscle of his side. Stiles cringes as the flesh and skin knits itself back together.

“That’d be really cool if it weren’t so completely disgusting,” Stiles says and moves on to the next wound.

“Just get them _out_.” Bolt demands, his hand finding Stiles’ hip and gripping hard.

“Working on it.” Stiles plucks a second bullet from between Bolt’s ribs and stares as the bone tries to refuse together at a crooked angle. “Shit, hold still.” He bites his lip as his fingers burrow into Bolt’s side and yank the bone into place.

Bolt screams.

“Sorry.” Stiles goes for the last bullet, trying to not think too much about how he has to wipe blood off on his pants so the tweezers aren’t slippery. It comes out quick and the hole closes as soon as it’s gone.

“I’ll be right back,” Stiles heads downstairs to the laundry room next to his workshop and grabs a couple towels, wetting one in the kitchen on his way back, “You good?” he asks, and begins mopping the blood from Bolt’s now healed side.

Bolt nods, a sheen of sweat still clinging to his forehead, Stiles hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at him what with the bleeding and everything. Stiles can’t even enjoy how freakishly pretty the guy is because an obnoxious little voice in the back of his head is too busy insisting Derek has nicer eyes. Which yeah, he does, but come on, topless male model who owes him his life on the table right now.

Bolt clears his throat and Stiles realizes he’d been staring, “I’m Stiles.” He offers a still bloody hand.

Bolt gives him a once over and takes it, “Jackson.”

“So Jackson, how in the hell did you get away from those guys?”

Jackson preens, “They had no clue how fast I can go.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “How fast is that exactly?”

“When I usually run, I’m not actually _trying_. That’s like walking for me, If I actually exert myself… I’m not sure how fast it is, but I got here from across the city in under a minute.”

Stiles gapes, “and that was with three holes in your side.”

“We never really tested my limits after the accident.” Jackson shrugs.

“You have no idea how badly I want to make you shoes right now.” Stiles shakes off the urge to start sketching out ideas right there on the (probably ruined) table. “So you wanna stay here or do you have some place else to crash until we catch these assholes?”

“What?”

“Well you can’t go back home, not when they know who you are. I offered because we don’t know each other unmasked. They wouldn’t know you were here.”

Jackson’s got this look like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Hey, you want a cap in your impeccably toned ass that’s your business, I’m just saying the guest room’s yours if you want it.”

“Thanks.” Jackson says quietly.

“Just don’t steal anything.” Stiles says gathering up the towels, “and don’t give me that little bitchface either, I told Lycan the same thing and I like him way more than you.”

Jackson hops off the table, “Lycan stayed here?”

Stiles does not like the sassy little eyebrow raise he’s getting, “Once, yeah.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t sleep in the guest room.” Jackson smirks.

“He didn’t sleep anywhere, there was no sleeping,” Stiles says and immediately regrets it.

“I’m sure. So the leather thing, does that cross over or—”

“I liked you better when you were bleeding to death.”

-

 _So, Bolt’s staying at my place._ Stiles texts Derek over comms later that day.

He gets a reply after a couple minutes, _Why?_

_Dumbass got made by our baddies._

_Of course he did. He wouldn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass_. It’s scary how Stiles can practically hear Derek sigh.

 _Seriously. Also you’d think pulling bullets out a guy would make him less of a raging douchebag towards you but, no such luck_. Stiles walks into the living room and flops down on the couch next to Jackson who’s watching college lacrosse of all things.

“Who are you texting?” He asks, not looking away from the TV.

“The Virgin Mary, she wants a recommendation for a good prophylactic.”

“Tell Lycan I say hi.”

“Remind me why I’m harboring your ass again?” Stiles says, ignoring Jackson in favor of reading Derek’s reply.

_They shot him? You couldn’t have mentioned that sooner?_

_Well he’s fine now_ , Stiles defends.

_We’re in over our heads._

_That’s never stopped me before, did I ever tell you about that time I went to the Spearmint Rhino?_

_You’re ridiculous._

_You like it ;)_

It takes Derek a minute to respond, _Maybe._


	6. Chapter 6

It says something about the state of Lydia’s life that she doesn’t startle at the tapping on her bedroom window before it slides open.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” she demands as Allison climbs inside.

Allison looks at her, eyes red rimmed and face paler than usual.

“What happened?” she tosses aside her notebook and springs off the bed.

Allison just shakes her head.

“I need you to talk to me,” Lydia says taking her by the shoulders and leading her toward the bed, “I need you to say something, okay?”

“I—” she runs a hand through her dark hair, “It was horrible.”

“What was?”

Allison bites her lip, “Remember when I said my Aunt Kate was coming back to town?” she waits for Lydia to nod before continuing. “She told me that every family has its secrets. She brought me to this warehouse on the docks, there were um,” Allison shakes her head and blinks, “there were these cells. She took me inside one and there was a guy chained up. I don’t even think he was older than us.” She looks to Lydia, eyes wide, “She… she said it was the family tradition, that it was our _job_.

“He had powers,” the obvious _‘like you’_ goes unspoken, “She said we had to get rid of him, that he was dangerous. That sooner or later he’d hurt someone. That sooner or later you all would.”

Lydia rubs soothing circles into her back, “Then it’s her.”

“What?”

“While you were off duty Lancer got a bunch of us together, he and this guy, Lycan, said there was some group out there targeting powered heroes. That they took out Sirius and Lycan’s partner.”

“Sirius, I thought he—” Allison starts shaking her head.

“He’s alive, they both are, but Lancer said Sirius is in a coma and Lycan didn’t say what happened to his partner but it couldn’t have been anything good.” She reaches for where her communicator is sitting on her nightstand, she unlocks it and pulls up the picture Lancer shower them that night, “Does this look familiar?”

Allison stares wide eyed at the image, “That’s—” her hands fumble at her neck, she pulls a pendant almost identical to the drawing on the screen out of her shirt, “Kate gave it to me, she said it was a family heirloom.”

“The person who attacked Lycan’s partner was wearing that necklace.”

Allison’s fingers tighten around the chain until her knuckles turn white.

“Do you know if she’s still in the same warehouse?” Lydia asks.

Allison nods, “She brought me there a couple times. They should all be there.”

“We have to tell Lancer.”

“We’re going to stop them?” Allison asks, wiping her eyes dry.

“Of course.”

Her jaw tightens, “Good.”

-

Stiles is in his Jeep not obeying the speed limit when his communicator starts playing “Hot in Here”, he pulls it from his pocket and cradles it between his shoulder and ear, “Can’t talk hot stuff, are you dying?”

“No, but I have some important information.” Fury says.

“All right but you gotta talk fast, I just got some important info of my own.”

“What happened?”

Stiles grins, “Sirius woke up.”

-

Derek grabs his jacket and heads for the door, “I’m going out.”

“Out where?” Laura asks.

“We got a lead, I’m following up on it.”

Laura crosses her arms, not needing to hear her brother’s heartbeat to know he’s bullshitting her, “Really? Without your mask?”

“It’s not that kind of lead,” he insists.

She shrugs, “Then you’re taking me with you.”

“No I’m not.”

Laura eases herself off the couch and into a standing position. Derek moves to steady her but she shoves him away, “I am sick and tired of waiting her like your poor little invalid sister, while you go out and risk your fucking neck every night.” She reaches for her crutches and slips her wrists into the braces. “If you don’t need your mask it’s not dangerous. If you or your friends have some information on the assholes that did this to me, then I want to know.”

“Laura, you don’t have to prove anything. Stay here.”

“You think I’m trying to prove something?” Laura shouts, “Prove I can still play the game? I know what happened to me, Derek and I know I’m not ready to get back out there roof hopping every night. I can feel it, I know how hurt I am.” She takes a deep breath, “All I’m saying is I want in.”

“Laura—”

“I want in, Derek.”

Derek’s eyes flash blue, “Get your coat.”


	7. Chapter 7

The hero game isn’t where Stiles learned to stealthily break into secure buildings—he has his unending curiosity and his father’s position as chief of police to thank for that—but it certainly keeps him in practice. He scales up the wall until he gets to the fifth floor, he unhinges the window and slips inside.

He stalks down the hall as quickly and quietly as he can, he slips into room 508 and pulls back the curtain, holding a finger up to his lips.

Stiles yanks his backpack off and pulls out a pair of track pants, “Jailbreak,” he whispers, tossing them at Scott with a smirk. Stiles helps him get the pants on and eases him into his wheelchair. They maneuver out of  sight of the staff and manage to get to Stiles’ jeep.

“Have you been working out?” Scott asks when Stiles hefts him out of the chair and into the front seat with little effort.

“Who do you think’s been picking up your slack?” Stiles asks, putting the chair in the back.

“I thought you weren’t interested in suiting up,” Scott says as they head out the lot toward Stiles’ house.

“I got interested,” Stiles says keeping his eyes on the road, “I had to find some things out.”

“Is that why you got me out?”

“I figured you’d want in on taking these guys down.” Stiles shrugs.

“Dude, you can’t just do that by yourself.”

“Of course not,” Stiles smiles, “That’s why I made some friends.”

There are two unfamiliar cars parked outside his house when they get there, a Volvo and the most gorgeous Camaro he’s ever seen. He gets Scott inside and finds his living room full for the first time since he bought the house. It’s also the first time they’ve all been unmasked in front of each other and he’s a little surprised a fight hasn’t broken out.

“The gang all here?” he asks, looking around the room.

“And then some.”

Stiles turns around, “Danny? What are you doing here at this casual and totally not suspect gathering of friends?”

“You don’t have any friends.” Danny says crossing his arms, “You really think I’d just let you run off with untraceable comms and not monitor you?”

“Wait this is the guy you banged for our phones?” Jackson says because he has neither tact nor loyalty to the guy housing his sorry ass.

“You slept with Danny?” Scott exclaims, trying to twist around in his chair.

“You whored yourself out for phones?” A gorgeous dark haired woman he doesn’t even know asks from the couch.

“First of all, they’re not phones, they’re communicators, you Neanderthals. Second, I did not whore myself out, I used a previous consensual hook up as blackmail, very different. And yes, it was with Danny and no I don’t actually have a sex tape.” Stiles’ ears are burning by the time he finishes.

“Wow.” The red-head he assumes is Fury says.

“Any questions not related to my sex life?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah, who are these guys?” Scott asks.

“Mouseketeer Roll Call anyone?” Stiles prompts, turns out Fury and Silver Shot are Lydia and Allison and the brunette on the couch is Laura, Derek’s partner and big sister.

“And I’m Stiles.” He says, clasping his hands together.

Lydia snaps her fingers and points at him, “I knew I recognized you. You’re that designer, What’s-his-name Stilinski.”

“Please, for the love of God just stick with Stiles.” There are some things people just don’t need to know about Stiles and his first name is at the top of the list.

“I can’t believe you’re him, you’re brilliant.” Lydia says, giving him a confused reappraisal.

“Wait, Lydia like Lydia _Martin_?” Stiles asks, when he receives a nod his jaw drops, “Oh my God. I’ve been in love with you ever since you won a Fields Medal.”

“Not that your little geeky love fest isn’t great, but don’t we have work to do?” Jackson asks.

“Yes, very important vigilante business.” Stiles snaps his fingers. “Have a seat, eyes on the big screen, you kids know the drill.” Stiles grabs his laptop and sits on the end of the couch near Scott in his chair. Jackson takes up the chair he’d practically peed in a circle around since moving in. Danny perches on the edge of an end table near the other armchair Allison sits in. Stiles raises an eyebrow when Lydia plops down in her lap and curls up against her. He leans over toward Scott, “Better luck next time, dude.”

When Scott just stares back at him confused, Stiles can’t tell if he’s just being Scott  or if they gave him the good meds.

Derek sits next to Stiles and opts for leaning over and looking at his laptop rather than the larger television screen it’s being projected onto. Stiles decides to ignore Jackson’s gagging noises because he’s an adult and also a bit distracted by how warm Derek is.

“So this,” Stiles says, pulling up a photo on his computer, “is Kate Argent.” There’s a reverberating growl and Stiles reaches over to put a hand on the back of Scott’s neck, noticing Derek’s done the same for Laura. “She’s the one who’s been taking out heroes. We’re gonna return the favor.”

“How?” Laura asks.

“We know where she’s set up, and we have someone on the inside.” Stiles says.

“How’d you get someone undercover?” Jackson asks.

“That’s the great part, we didn’t even try, it just happens to be a small ass world.”

Allison raises a hand weakly, “She’s my aunt.”

“That sucks.” Scott says.

“She has people there,” Allison says, gesturing to the satellite photo of the warehouse on the screen, “chained up. She’s torturing them for information on where other powered people are.” She squares her jaw, “we’re going to put a stop to it and we’re going to take her out.”

“What did you have in mind?” Laura asks and Stiles can’t help but notice her voice has the same steely edge Allison’s did.

Lydia smiles sharply, “Why we storm the castle, of course. And light it up.” Her eyes flash and Stiles catches a glow on the tips of her hair.

“You wanna just Leeroy Jenkins your way in there?” Scott gapes, “Are you stupid?”

“While you are an authority on stupid, we have an actual plan.” Stiles assures him with a pat on the shoulder.

Granted their plan is pretty much like Leeroy Jenkins with more finesse and genius planners involved but it won’t get them killed. Maybe.

Hopefully.

Once they’ve explained all the details—not that there are too many details, mostly just point, shoot, try not to die—he feels an air of discomfort settle over the room.

Jackson thumps his head back against his chair, “We’re all gonna die in there aren’t we?”

“That is a possible if not probable outcome.” Stiles says, “Which reminds me,” Stiles turns to Derek and palms the back of his head, pulling him into and awkward, but spirited kiss.

When they separate Derek’s eyes are glowing electric blue and Stiles is pretty sure he can see some fang showing through Derek’s gaping mouth.

“I may have misread this situation entirely.” Stiles says, wondering how effective Scott would be as a human shield.

Derek cracks his neck and his fangs shift back into his normal rabbitish teeth Stiles secretly finds adorable. He grabs Stiles by the bicep and proceeds to bend him backwards over the arm of the couch, kissing the ever loving fuck out of him.

“Or not.” Stiles says once they part (after a pointed throat clearing from Laura).

Derek settles back into his seat and straightens his jacket, crossing his arms like he didn't just artake in some major PDA.

“Yeah, no, I’m definitely on board with not dying on this mission if living means more of that.” Stiles says pointing at Derek.

He gets a chorus of “ew’s” from Scott and Jackson and a surprised eyebrow raise from Lydia.

"Oh, shut up," he says, getting an amused chckle from Allison.

Stiles catches Derek’s sleeve in the main hallway as they all begin to depart.

“So,” Stiles starts.

Derek nods for him to continue.

“That wasn’t a one-off right? We’re in an ongoing state of mutual liking or whatever?”

Derek smiles and wraps his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck like that time in the jeep, “It’s a little more than liking.”

Stiles nods, “Sweet.”

“Yeah,” Derek crowds him up against the wall and pushes his jacket aside to better access Stiles’ neck. He noses and kisses along Stiles’ throat and hums contentedly.

“Not sure what’s happening, but I'm definitely a fan.” Stiles says, carding his fingers through Derek’s soft hair.

“Your scent is ridiculous,” Derek mutters against his neck.

“Oh right, werewolf. Supper-sniffer. Gotcha.” Stiles says, “Hey what other kinds of things can you smell?”

“Arousal for one.” Laura says from the end of the hall, “If you’re done macking on my baby brother?” Laura jerks a thumb in the direction of the door.

“Hey, he’s the one getting his bloodhound on up against my jugular.” Stiles says, putting his hands up in surrender as Derek manages to pry himself away from Stiles neck, not before giving it a final lick that totally doesn’t make Stiles shudder in his adidas.

"Hey," Laura says, whacking him in the back of the knee with her crutch as he heads out the door. “I like you.” She smiles slow and wide.

“Thanks?” Stiles says, worrying Derek might actually be the normal sibling.

“Derek likes you too, so try not to get hurt out there, kid.” She winks at him before going to join Derek in that beautiful Camaro.

“Please, I'm a professional,” Stiles calls and loads Scott up in the jeep.


End file.
